


The Bath

by sapphicanary



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Character Death Fix, F/M, Fix-It, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-29 00:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicanary/pseuds/sapphicanary
Summary: The events following Mike's phone call to Stan.
Relationships: Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Kudos: 46





	The Bath

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fix-it fic so don't wprey about Stanley boy he'll be fine.
> 
> WARNINGS: suicide attempt, self-harm (sort of), slight angst ig

Cold.

No, no, no. That was wrong; it was supposed to be warm, right? Warm eases the blood flow, dulls the pain. God, he didn’t know—he had never so much as thought about this, let alone been so dead set on _ doing _ it.

He didn’t like this. He didn’t want to do this. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t face It again. Even if he did go back to Derry, his friends (if he could even call them that anymore. It had been nearly thirty years after all) would be weaker with him there. Because he knew he didn’t have the bravery to fight. He barely had it back then and now? He knew what he was up against, what _ they _ were up against. And there was no way he could do it again.

Stan turned the dial to a warmer setting—not hot, he couldn’t _ stand _ the hot. It made you sweat and the feeling of sweat on his skin made him feel dirty and no matter how many showers he took he didn’t feel clean.

_ Okay_, he thought. _ Okay, okay, okay_. He could do this, he could do this. He reached over with a trembling hand and grasped the razor from the edge of the tub. It’s surface was cold, a shocking difference from the water he had just stuck his hand into. 

Stan gripped the razor a little tighter, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. He brought it up to his wrist, but hesitated. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest like a drum, getting louder and louder and louder. It felt as though it would leap from his chest any moment now.

He pressed it to the skin, not hard enough to draw blood and hesitated yet again as he remembered something. Something Mike had said on the phone, something he had called him.

_ Stan the Man_.

He smiled. “Stan the Man,” he whispered to himself fondly. He thought about the other Losers and how many times they had called him that throughout their childhood and just how _ lovingly _ they could say it at times. He had never had friends like that since. And, oh, how he missed them. Stan hadn’t even remembered their existence until twenty minutes ago, but he felt as though he had remembered everything about them for the last twenty seven years.

“Honey?” a soft voice said from behind the bathroom door, a knock following suit, startling him.

“Shit-fuck!” Stan yelped, jumping back away from the tub. The razor fell to the ground with a sharp _clank_. “P-Pat, love—” His voice was shaking so much he could barely get any words out. “—could you, um, g-give me a… give me a m-moment?”

“Stan, let me in.”

“No, I… I’m naked.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose at his own stupidity.

“Stan, I’m your wife, I’m almost sixty-five percent sure we’re past this faze.” Despite himself, Stan felt the corners of his lips turn up in a small smile. “Now turn off the water and open the door.”

“Patty…”

“Stanley,” she said sternly, yet softly, “I know you’re upset about the phone call. Just come out here and let’s talk about it, alright?”

Stan shut his eyes tightly and clenched his jaw. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t kill himself with Patty standing right outside the door. He turned the water off and let out a deep sigh before opening the door and facing his wife.

There was a few seconds of silence as Patty surveyed the scene in the bathroom and reality set in for them both. Oh, God, what had he been about to do? Kill himself in his own home for his wife to find him? All because what? He was too cowardly to face this monster that he knew, he _ knew _ he had to face? As Stan looked at his wife and saw the heartbreak on her face, like a disobedient dog, he slouched his shoulders and couldn’t bear to look at her any longer.

“Oh, honey, you’re bleeding.” He barely felt the gentle touch of her fingers as she lifted his hand to get a better look. His brows furrowed as he stared down at the blood; red and dripping from his palm and fingers. He must have cut himself when Patty had scared him.

Stan pulled away from her grip. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Do you take me for an idiot, Stanley Uris?”

“I…” He blinked. “No, no, of course not. You’re the smartest woman I know.”

“Then do you think I don’t know what you—” Her voice broke and Stan felt a pang in his chest. “—what you were doing?” He saw tears swell in her eyes as she swept her arm around to gesture at the bathroom. He turned away from her pushed away some of his hair from his face, feeling tears spring to his eyes as well.

“Patricia, I’m —”

She held up her hand, cutting him off. “I know… I know. Let's just get you cleaned up and then you can explain to me what exactly is going on. Because I know my husband and he’s not suicidal.”

So Stan let her patch him up; not that he had much choice. He was sure that if he refused he would he dragged out of the bathroom by his hair. Afterwards, he sat on their sofa—not moving, not blinking—as Patty drained the tub, threw the razor in the dumpster outside, and made them both a glass of wine.

When she rounded the sofa, her silk robe flowing behind her, he grabbed the glass of wine and took a long swig. He felt the cushian next to him dip with her weight as she sat down. He heard the glass being set on the table and opened his eyes. He hadn't even noticed he had closed them.

Patty crossed her legs and folded her hands together before speaking. “Who called you.”

“Mike,” Stan answered. “Mike, uh, Mike Hanlon.” There was silence before he realized she wanted him to continue. “He was an old friend of mine from when I was a teenager. Actually, he wasn’t just a friend, he was one of my best friends.”

He saw her face contort in confusion. She shook her head, saying, “You’ve never mentioned a Mike Hanlon before.”

Stan nodded. “I know. Before that phone call I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know he _ existed _. Let alone that I was so close to him.”

“Stanley, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know.”

“Okay,” she said after a moment. He was usually very good at reading his wife, but right now he didn’t know where her head was at. He couldn’t tell if she believed him or not. “So what did he want?”

He took another swig of his wine. “He wants me to come back to Derry to… to help him with something.”

“What does he need help with?”

He then found himself telling her everything. From the other Losers, to Pennywise, to Henry Bowers, to why he had planned on killing himself. She just sat and nodded, occasionally taking a sip of her wine. He didn’t really expect her to believe him. Patty was much like him: a realist, cynical, logical. It had taken him a long time to accept the reality of It, even when It was staring him in the face.

But, much to his shock, when he finally finished telling her as much as he could remember, she simply said, “Well, you have to go.”

Stanley’s mouth fell slack. “I… wh-_ what _?”

“You have to go.”

“You _ believe _me?”

Patty chuckled softly at his shocked voice. “Like I said,” she took his hands in her’s, “I know my husband. And I know when he lies to me. This isn’t it. So, you need to go. You’re friends need you.”

Stan shook his head and looked away from her. “They don’t need me, Pat. I almost got them killed last time because I was too scared and wandered off. They’ll be fine without me.”

She gripped his hand tighter. “You are no coward, Stanley Uris,” she said sharply. “You’re so brave. You faced that thing the first time and I know you can do it again.”

“I was going to kill myself so I didn’t have to. I was going to leave you because I—”

“No.” She cut his off, placing a hand on his cheek. “That doesn’t make you a coward, Stan. I don’t want you to ever feel that you are. You have to go back because it’s the right thing to do and when you get there and see your friends, you’ll be glad you went.”

Stan fought back against his lip, which had started quivering as she was telling him this. Patty smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She reached up with her other hand so she was now cupping his face. Her thumb brushed his cheek as he nodded. She was right, he had to go back and kill It. He leaned down and they kissed; short but loving.

They lingered like this, holding each other close. “You come back to me, understand?” she said softly.

“There’s no way in hell I won’t.”

  
  



End file.
